Occupational Hazard
by K'Arthur
Summary: Olivert enlists Mueller's assistance to craft a story of a certain genre... [Meta humor referencing Sky, Crossbell, Cold Steel I/II, and the first 30 minutes of CSIII.]


_A/N: For Harriet, written with holiday wishes for the 2019 Kiseki Secret Santa Exchange. _

* * *

**Occupational Hazard**

"No," Mueller said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking sternly at his charge. "Absolutely not."

"It wasn't a request," Olivert said, twirling a pen between his fingers and looking up from his desk. "It's a requirement of your position."

"I haven't received my monthly hazard pay for your schemes, and I can _assure_ you this is definitely not one of my duties."

Olivert feigned insult. "I thought your constant shadowing of me was born out of love!"

"You're an idiot."

"And you're an idiot who loves me."

Mueller remained silent. He'd learned, over the years, that was the best way to contain the volley of ridiculousness that often came from Olivert was just to be quiet.

The prince sighed, farcically, of course, and said, "very well. If you agree to help me with this, I promise I will not allow trouble to find me for a week. I will go only from the palace to St. Astraia's to teach my music classes."

"You find trouble," Mueller countered. "A month."

"Ten days."

"Three weeks."

"Two."

"I will take it," Mueller said.

"Fabulous! In all seriousness, I do need your assistance with this endeavor. Sit down. Assist your bosom friend." After a pause, he added a drawled "please" that stretched about fifteen syllables.

Breaking his soldier's stance, Mueller acquiesced and sat in the chair across the desk from Olivert. "So, this is to be a gift for Princess Alfin? Are you sure she enjoys-" He paused, trying to find the correct vocabulary, "those types of stories?"

"Absolutely!" The prince grinned. "She has quite the lovely collection. And no need to be shy. They're called _boy's love_. A fascinating and beautiful genre if I do so say so myself."

"So why must I help you write it?"

"Ah, my words tend to be too florid at times. Your stoic nature inspires me." After a wink, he added, "You are my Muse, Mueller!"

Mueller could not resist the urge to run his hand down his face in agony. "Please don't ever say that again."

"Ah, very well, my love! Let's get started. Now, who shall the central characters be?"

"You haven't even created the characters yet?"

"No, I'm very early in the creative process, you see." Olivert winked. "Perhaps you will learn from me as you inspire me!"

"I'm guessing you don't have a plot, either." It was more of a mutter borne out of frustration at the ridiculousness of all of this.

"In these types of stories, the plot can be, shall we say, secondary? The passion of the young men is the most important. Now, suggest some characters to me. Perhaps based off some people we know?"

Mueller raised a brow. "You're kidding, right?"

"No, the best tales are the ones woven with a grain of truth!" Pursing his lips for a moment, Olivert snapped his fingers as an idea came to him. "Perhaps I should write about the steamy passion of love, manifested as hate! Yes, two young men from opposite backgrounds—a high ranking noble and a staunch supporter of our dear reformists! Yes! And instead of finding middle ground, they make the lives of everyone around them miserable. Their contempt for each other transcends every effort their common friends attempt to get them to reconcile.

"Eventually, they find themselves in a hot spring, and their feelings come pouring out as they fight with each other as the water caresses their bodies! But then, in an odd instant, that hate turns to love and they kiss passionately! But, despite their moment of passion, they deny it ever happened, and continue to bicker in public. But every night, they sneak into each other's bedrooms and have heated political debates that end with them in lustful embraces!"

Mueller shook his head. "That sounds entirely cliched. And, I don't think Jusis and Machias are sleeping together." After a pause, he muttered, "Yet."

"Yet being the operative word." Olivert tapped his cheek in thought. "You are correct, as always. See, I knew you would be an inspiring muse."

"I said don't call me that."

"Muse-ller!"

"I'll kill you," the soldier said with narrowed eyes.

Olivert laughed. "Ah, see, we are acting the parts so well."

"The parts?"

"I realize now that story could've been about us, you know. To some degree, although the last time we were at a hot spring-"

Mueller interrupted him with the strongest statement he could muster at the moment. "I am not, nor will I ever be an Ironblood sympathizer."

"I love a man who knows his place," Olivert sighed as he again twirled his pen.

"So, you've told me numerous times. Now, what can you write that will be satisfactory to your sister?"

The prince considered a moment, toying with the single rose in the vase on his desk. "Perhaps a story where a young man sets out on a quest. He could be running from a dark past, desperately trying to find a resolution that would allow him to enact revenge upon those who wronged him and thus let him move forward in his life. And, his lover is none other than a seemingly good natured and happy go lucky traveling priest with a dark secret of his own! They discovered they are bound more than by their travels, that being a seemingly similar curse. Upon this discovery, they vow to travel the world and rid it of threats, fighting next to each other during the day, and cuddling each other through their respective nightmares at night!"

"Kevin and Joshua would murder you, if Estelle doesn't beat them to it, and I would pay to watch the melee."

"It would be a quick death, at least," Olivert, said, tapping his chin in thought.

"Why don't you try something more, I don't know, traditional?"

"Traditional?" The prince asked, his curiosity piqued at Mueller's sudden decision to offer a prompt for the story.

"Yes, you know, two instructors at an elite academy. Both burdened by their respective pasts and uncertain about their futures as they try to raise the next generation of soldiers."

Olivert shook his head. "Boring and it might subvert threads of this tale that have not yet been revealed. You're supposed to be a muse. Try harder! That lacked all sense of passion, but I suppose for your first try it's not completely awful."

"Hmm," Mueller said, not even realizing how far into this game he was at this point. "Perhaps the central characters could be the leader of a police squad and the head of a gang of juvenile delinquents? They could meet as enemies, but after solving a problem that affects both of them, their senses of justice collide, and they wind up lovers."

"How?"

"How what?" Mueller asked, genuinely confused.

"How do they end up lovers? I know I said plot is secondary, but there must be something to serve as a catalyst—a hot spring, a moment in a cramped space, a realization they are essentially the same! Something!"

"I thought the justice uniting them would be good?"

"Not really," the prince said with a shake of his head. "And I don't think Alfin really knows anyone from Crossbell anyway."

"You have a point," Mueller said, touching his chin in thought. "Perhaps a tragedy, then? Two schoolmates who find themselves on an opposite side of a war. Just when they are about to reconcile, one dies in his lover's arms—"

Olivert cut him off. "I can't write such sorrow as a gift. Besides, it sounds like it would be a voluminous tale, spanning three or four books."

"Well, it would give you something to do besides causing havoc for those of us tasked to babysit you."

"You are the only one with such a task, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Mueller sighed behind a tiny smile. That much was true at least.

"You're getting better, though," Olivert said with a wink. "Perhaps when your blade rusts you could take up a new profession."

Mueller closed his eyes in thought as a smirk danced across his lips. He had grown tired of this nonsense and thus devised a suggestion so ludicrous it would surely end this entire endeavor instantly. With as much theatrics he could muster into his voice, he began: "You should write the tale of a prince, seen by many as a dandy and a fool, as he traverses the world, looking for his personal definition of love and beauty! He finds it, in the arms of a nefarious chancellor whose motives are dark and cloudy."

Despite the look of abject horror on Olivert's face, Mueller continued: "They battle at first, of course, the florid, dazzling artes of the prince versus the robust, muscular chancellor! But then, in one of their many battles, they discover their love for their people is what unites them! Yes! It could take place as they are stuck in a mine shaft where they face certain death together! It could be titled _Roses and Iron_."

Olivert laid his forehead down on his desk in defeat. After a moment of collecting his thoughts, he countered: "That is definitely the most awful thing I've ever heard! First of all, my dear Mueller, the characters must have some degree of nubile allure. While I may be on the upper end of that limit, not even the most extensive make up palette from the _Arc en Ciel_ could make Osborne look any younger."

"Well, then, I'm fresh out of ideas." Mueller said, grinning as he stood up. Victory had been achieved-this little writing session was over and more importantly, Olivert was mortified.

The prince glared at him as he rose and crossed the room to sit at his piano. While playing a few measures of a melody, he kept his gaze on Mueller, who had dutifully followed.

"Giving up already?"

Olivert softened his touch on the keys. "Hardly, my Muse."

Mueller made a face, although he did feel he might have deserved that barb.

The prince finished his song and then spoke. "I believe I have decided upon the characters and the plot, no thanks to you. Your help was invaluable, as always. But I believe at this point, it's just time for me to sit down and write the thing."

"Are you dismissing me?"

"You know I never dismiss you, love."

Mueller gave the requisite salute before taking his leave, content to know that whatever Olivert ended up doing was likely not going to cause him any more grief.

For that day, at least.

* * *

"Olivert!" Alfin called to her brother, her voice swaying across his name as she entered the conservatory. "It was simply the most divine gift! I knew you had talent, but I never imagined penning such a tantalizing romance was one of them."

Seated at the piano, he bowed his head. "You honor me, sister dear. I am glad you enjoyed it."

She leaned down to give him a hug. "It was truly fabulous, and I can't wait to share it with my friends. I do hope you write some more!"

"For you, I will. Indulge me a question, if you would: which part was your favorite?"

"Oh," Alfin said, beaming, "It's hard to say, there were so many, but I truly enjoyed the parts where the soldier had to wear a maid's dress and a wig sneak into the prince's room and when the prince and the soldier went to the hot springs and confessed their love to each other!"

Olivert smiled. "Ah, excellent. But I shall tell you a secret."

"A secret?"

"Yes, dear sister, the story is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg."

"It is?"

He flitted his hands across the keys for an instant, playing a few bars before revealing: "Yes, I've decided to turn the entire story into an operetta, to be staged in the next year."

"Fantastic!" she said, clasping her hands together. "Who will be playing the leads?"

He flicked his bangs from his eyes with a flourish of his hand. "I shall play the dashing, charming prince, of course. And Mueller shall assume the role of the solider, charged with protecting the prince at all costs while helping him fight injustice forged by a corrupt government. And, among these threads of political intrigue, our heroes discover their lust for each other is more than physical, but a true, deep, love that transcends life and death itself! They are the best of bosom buddies, whose traded barbs are pure bliss for both of them!"

She raised a brow. "Does he know that?"

"Of course not!" Olivert laughed. "The element of surprise shall just make the performance that much grander!"


End file.
